Locals claim the market oak is an old guardian sprigged from a dead druid's staff; its roots are said to whisper to those who sleep beneath the bunks. Superstitious folk leave tiny offerings — carved acorns, polished stones, or songs — to keep the oak's favor. The hidden rune beneath the bark dates to a small folk cult that once met in secret under the square; their rites are lost but sometimes spark in locals' dreams when the moon is thin. For adventurers (party level ~5), the oak and the inn offer a subtle blend of safe respite and seeded mystery: enough to prompt a cautious delve into its hollow or to draw out a quiet threat that is just beyond the town's capacity to handle alone.